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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986527">Eventully in Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/margiarally/pseuds/margiarally'>margiarally</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/margiarally/pseuds/margiarally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger can't do magic.</p><p>Something happened to her after the Battle of Hogwarts where they were so brutally defeated. Then being held captive by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange and barely escaping with her life, Hermione finds temporary solace before being thrown back in time. </p><p>She's now the key to defeating the Dark Lord and changing the future. As one of the Order's most important pieces, she is moved under the watchful eyes of trusted Order members Sirius Black and the Potters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, so this is the first story I've ever tried to write, but I'm absolutely obsessed with the Hermione Time-turner concept. This won't be exactly that, but similar. </p><p>I'll be updating every Sunday! I hope you guys enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was quiet in the forest this night. Nothing but the sounds of gentle breezes brushing past the trees and the occasional nocturnal creature fluttering through the brush. With the moon shining overhead, peaking through the thick foliage, the ground was almost completely black, with the faintest of silhouettes to signal upcoming obstacles.</p><p> The subtle sounds of the night were shattered by the crunching of quickly running feet pattering across the forest floor, twigs snapping and echoing through the air. Her breath was coming out in short pants, desperate for air as her body struggled to maintain the speed of her escape. </p><p> Low lying branches, thin and jaggedly shaped, scraped across her exposed skin, leaving angry red scratches along her arms, legs, and face. They cut over open wounds that had been left untreated, only inflaming the pain of the already tender flesh. There wasn’t time to stop and maneuver to avoid anything. All that mattered right now was that she got away. </p><p> She could hear the heavy footfalls that chased behind her. They sounded like cannon fire to her hypersensitive hearing, consistent and seemingly becoming faster and louder. It was chaos to her already damaged psyche, the slowing and speeding up of her tormentor’s chase was another part of the sick game she liked to play. Especially when Hermione was being especially stubborn. It made for a more enjoyable session.  </p><p> Hermione forced herself to visualize the face of her torment, manic eyes that glinted wildly whenever she finally managed to get her to scream. Jet black hair that coiled tightly into curls in a frightening mane, some of which had matted into the loosely secured knot at the back of her head. Thin red lips. A sharp, angular nose that crunched up when angered. Hermione pictured it all, letting her body remember every single cut, every blow, every curse she had endured for the past three weeks. She let it fuel her into putting every single drop of energy in each purposeful step. </p><p> The steps behind her slowed again, but she wasn’t falling for it this time. No, she took the opportunity to push further, run faster. Each inhale accompanied the sharp jabs into her side. She forced herself to manage it, worse pain awaited her if she didn’t escape tonight. </p><p> The trees continued to whip past her face in the cool night air. There was a clearing up ahead, the edge of the woods perhaps? She hadn’t made it this far before. Her legs were burning. She could feel them screaming at her to stop, to take a break. No, if she did, then they would seize again and it was over. She would die because her body and mind could no longer take her captivity. It was humanly impossible. </p><p> As the treeline began to thin, Hermione’s heart began to do something dangerous. Hope. For the first time in weeks, she tasted it, sweet and heavy on her tongue, as if too much would make her sick. Go until there is nothing left. A voice in her head spoke. Go until you’ve exhausted everything, and then go further. Hermione let herself focus on her internal monologue, repeating to herself that if she didn’t escape tonight, she would die trying. </p><p> Suddenly, like a sudden shock of ice water in her veins, she felt her magic rush into her full force, as if she had crossed some threshold that was dampening her power. She didn’t have her wand, no, that had disappeared in Malfoy manor months ago. This was pure adrenaline, only exacerbated by crossing the wards she hadn’t realized was siphoning her magical abilities. She had thought it was something they put in her food. </p><p> A shrill scream reached her ears, filling her with nothing but pure, unfiltered terror. She was angry, very angry that her captive had reached the ends of her domain. Despite the bone-chilling fear, Hermione felt a sick pleasure in angering the witch who once again, underestimated her. </p><p> Bright blue light blasted past her shoulder into one of the trees, splintering off into a million little woodchips. The force of it knocked Hermione off her feet and left her scrambling desperately to get back up. Another flash, red, blasted the ground just behind her. The dead leaves were incinerated upon contact. </p><p> “You’re not escaping me, Mudblood!” The shrill feminine voice screeched at her, grating against Hermione’s ears. <br/>
Another flash, bright and blue right into the tree next to her as she forced herself to continue. </p><p> The clearing was empty of trees now. She ran the fastest she had ever sprinted in her life. Arms pumping wildly as her stride struggled to match. Spells continued to whiz by her as she began to duck and weave to avoid the incessant onslaught of attacks. </p><p> It was only when she was within feet of the ledge, body screaming in exhaustion, that she noticed the cliff. The sheer stone face that stared dauntingly back up at her left her frozen. The ocean glared back at her, an inky black that undulated beneath the silver rays of the moon. </p><p> The spells had stopped, but the footsteps crunching through grass had not. Hermione turned to see the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, enraged and maniacal in every sense of the word. In the darkness, she made out the shapely silhouette of what was once, a beautiful woman. In her place was a deranged lunatic, her humanity mangled up so severely that only the most twisted of human urges remained. Hermione had decided that was what happened when you devote yourself to follow someone like Voldemort. A creature of darkness and chaos that seeped into your pores. </p><p> Bellatrix stopped a mere twenty feet away, Hermione was able to make out the sadistic grin she wore when something was especially challenging. Her stomach churned at the thought of going back with her. Hermione just stood there, watching the witch analyze and contemplate the state of her as if pondering the most effective punishment for outperforming her expectations. </p><p> “There’s nowhere else to go, sweet Mudblood. But... I daresay, I’m impressed with how far you managed tonight.” Her sickly sweet tone of voice was another one of her psychological forms of torment. “Now, savor this moment. Savor the sight of the night sky, the moon… it’s the last time you’ll be seeing it for a while.” Her intonation became cold, and Hermione knew what would come next as she watched in slow motion. Bellatrix Lestrange raises her replaced wand in the familiar flick and swish she had come to memorize. </p><p> Destination. Deliberation. Determination. Her body had never felt so faint, never been so thoroughly exhausted, but her magic, still thrumming through her, fresh from its forced slumber, had never felt so awake. Hermione had barely felt the familiar tug behind her bellybutton before her feet lost touch with the ground. The violent sound of outrage from Bellatrix echoed in her brain. Concentrate. The sound of the witch’s cry would not leave her mind. Concentrate. Merlin, she had never heard Bellatrix so angry. Hermione vanished with a loud crack. </p><p>Pain. It was the first thing Hermione noticed as she collapsed onto the soft ground beneath her, somewhat cushioning her fall. It throbbed through her knee in searing waves. She gasped sharply as the pain intensified when she tried to adjust her thigh. It overshadowed any of her other wounds. Looking down, through her torn jeans, she could see the swollen kneecap and felt the gash rubbing against the denim. The blood had already completely soaked through. </p><p> The pain didn’t subside, and only when she had briefly acclimated to it did she realize where she was. Bellatrix Lestrange was no longer standing twenty feet in front of her. Instead, a familiar cottage of stone and shell sat before her, warm and inviting as the sounds of distant waves crashed in the background. </p><p> The hope that she had tasted moments before became overwhelming. It was forceful and heavy and caused her to cry out in relief, pain, and exhaustion. Completely ignoring any voice in her head warning her of the dangers of attracting attention to herself in an unknown area, she cried out again. Desperate for someone inside to notice. </p><p> “Help me!” she wailed. “Please!” <br/>
The heavy wooden door to Shell Cottage burst open to reveal the shadowed silhouette of a tall, broad-looking man with his wand outstretched from his body, pointing directly at Hermione. </p><p> “Please! It’s me, it’s Hermione…” she was crying now. The pain in her knee had escalated again in tandem with the other wounds that were now demanding her attention as well. “Please… I’m losing blood!” </p><p> The man froze. Immediately rushing towards her, Hermione flinched at the movement, crying out again from the pain the sudden jolt had cost her. Looking up at the man, much closer now, she was able to make out the gentle slopes of his cheeks, a little sharper than she last remembered, but familiar all the same. The long curve of his freckle-covered nose, and the ruffled hair, much overgrown now, made her want to weep in relief. </p><p>“Ron…” she sobbed out. Ron went to embrace her before realizing the state she was in. <br/>
Clothes were torn to bits, holes scattered across her shirt, and rips littered her jeans. The latter of which had a massive bump on her knee and the deep color of the denim hinted at the blood that still seeped through. A closer inspection at her face showed him scratches, recent, and bruises all across the expanse of her once soft skin.</p><p>“Hermione,” he whispered brokenly, lifting a hand to the curve of her jaw. She automatically leaned into the first gentle touch she was receiving in an entire month. “Merlin, what did they do to you?”<br/>
Hermione only managed a sob in reply, gripping the wrist beside her head as tightly as her limp muscles would allow. </p><p>“Ron? Is everything alright?” The thick French accent wafted its way over to Hermione’s ears like honey, warm and comforting. She was still reeling from the sight of her best friend to be able to answer Fleur. </p><p>“It’s Hermione! Quickly, she’s hurt!” Ron turned and shouted towards Fleur. <br/>
Fleur in turn rushed to his side and took in the heartbreaking sight before her. Her hands instinctively went to cover her mouth in shock. </p><p>“Oh, my- Hermione! Ron, quickly, levitate her into the house, I’ll heal her inside!” she ordered. “Gently.” </p><p>Ron took to the task as efficiently as possible, despite hesitantly releasing Hermione’s face. Hermione refused to release him, instead, she opted to thread her fingers through his free hand, pleading to him with her eyes. Slowly, Ron lifted Hermione magically, taking care to keep her legs as still as possible. Nevertheless, Hermione still felt the shift and let out a whimper at the stabbing sensations. </p><p> Fleur remained beside her, taking her other hand in her own and speaking soothing words into her ear. “You’re safe now… We take care of you now. I’ll heal you up quick, yes? You’re safe, Hermione.”</p><p>Hermione nodded at her, eyes still gleaming with tears, this time, because she was being tended to. If this was another dream, it would be a severely painful one to leave. </p><p>Ron carefully maneuvered their way up into a bedroom. Placing her on the bed required adjusting her knee, releasing a cry into a pillow beside her to muffle it. Hermione remained in that position the entirety of the time Fleur tended to her. The only times she moved were when she was gently encouraged to drink potions. </p><p>Ron never left her side. He remained there until any visible injuries were tended to and healed to the best of Fluer’s ability, Merlin knows he was shit at healing. It wasn’t until Fluer left to go get her some water that Ron slowly peeled the pillow away from her face. Relishing in the sight of her. </p><p>“Ron,” Fluer called when she returned with water and bread. “We need to undress her, make sure there are no more cuts.”</p><p>“‘Mione?” he spoke softly. With the hand that wasn’t tightly gripping Hermione’s he stroked her hair away from her face, trying not to catch any of the tangles. “We need to get you cleaned up okay? We’re going to take your clothes off okay?” Hermione just nodded with her eyes still pinched shut. </p><p>Fleur nodded, “I have scissors you can use to cut off the clothes, they are useless anyway. Look at all those rips.” She reached over to the dresser beside the window and pulled out a pair of shiny silver scissors. Bringing them closer to the witch, the sound of the metal opening made Hermione’s eyes shoot open. </p><p> “No… please… don’t…” she said frantically, shaking her head side to side. Her breathing became erratic, and her hand around Ron’s squeezed tight. “I’m sorry, please…” </p><p> “Hermione, you’re alright, you’re safe. Fleur is trying to help you, not hurt you…” Ron spoke pleadingly. “Please… it’s Ron, you’re safe now.” Hermione’s eyes were still wide with fear, almost like they were stuck in a trance, one too painful for Ron to begin grasping. </p><p> “Please…” She was shaking but was trying to compose herself. With a deep breath, the tremor passed and her eyes cleared. Looking at Ron she said, “I’m sorry, I… I forgot where I was for a moment.” </p><p> “Don’t apologize, Hermione,” Fluer responded. Her eyes shone with genuine compassion, “I’m just glad you are safe. Now, I cut your jeans, yes?” Hermione nodded. As Fleur began to cut down her legs, she never removed her gaze from Ron’s. He had brought her hand to his lips and was just holding them there staring at her. She didn’t realize how blue they were. They weren’t his blue when she dreamed of him. They were beautiful. </p><p> “I’m so sorry Hermione… I looked for you everywhere, I promise… I didn’t want to leave but Ginny and Fleur forced me to go. Everyone was dying and we got cornered. I’m so so sorry, I thought you were dead,” Ron admitted quietly. His beautiful blue eyes were brimming with tears. She hated seeing his tears. </p><p> “I know, I know you are. I was looking for you too. I was caught before I even made it into the castle,” she responded softly. “I could barely see you before Bellatrix attacked me.” Something inside Ron shattered at her words. </p><p> “You were with Bellatrix…” It was more a statement than a question, and she watched as the tears fell onto his cheeks before his eyes disappeared from her view.</p><p> Fleur had finished taking her jeans off, leaving Hermione on the bed with her exposed legs, plain black knickers, and her loosely hanging short sleeve shirt. Her legs were littered with cuts. Some had healed completely, leaving small scars. Others were more recent, scabbed over, or still bleeding. All around her legs and overlapping the cuts were bruises of all different shades. It looked like a sickening version of paint by numbers, the canvas littered in lines and splotches of color. </p><p> A sharp intake of air from Fluer pulled the attention of Hermione and Ron. At the sight, Hermione looked away, ashamed at the remains of her body, no longer hers, but a playground for Bellatrix’s sadistic tendencies. Ron had a silent reaction. His body completely tensed and the hand holding Hermione’s closed so tightly that she winced and he had to force himself to release it. The sight of his witch’s body so destroyed, only hinting at what kind of suffering she had gone through, made him want to punch something very very hard. Remembering what Ginny had told him about his anger hurting the people around him, he tried his best to control his growing rage. </p><p> “Hermione… Merlin, you poor thing.” Hermione looked at Fleur. Her blonde hair was loosely secured in a low bun, strands falling gently to frame her face. Her beauty was comforting now, unlike when they had first met and she had become jealous. Now, she was a sight for sore eyes. It took a moment for her to register the slight curve of Fluer’s abdomen. Prominent enough to be more than just a full stomach, but not enough to be more than halfway through the pregnancy. Despite the heavy tension of the room she smiled. </p><p> “Fleur…” she grinned. “Are you… Are you expecting?” </p><p> Fleur immediately smiled back at her, eyes still sad at the sight of the younger witch before her. “Oui, I am.” </p><p> “That’s amazing, Fluer. That’s so lovely,” the sudden positive change in the topic had Hermione finally relaxing into the bed a little. Still in a daze at the prospect of a baby, Bill and Fleur's baby. “Have you thought of any names yet?”</p><p> “Victoire for a girl, and Louis for a boy,” she responded. As she spoke she began tending to as many of her wounds as possible, leaving the ones that had mostly healed to preserve the bruising salve and dittany.</p><p> “Oh, how pretty. Ron, aren’t those names lovely?” Hermione looked to Ron, his eyes were still fixed on her legs. “Ron?” </p><p> His gaze returned to her, tears still falling from his cheeks, lingering on his lashes. “Hermione. I’m so s-” Hermione didn’t let him continue. She sat up and pulled him into a tight embrace, careful to not move her legs. He responded instantly, wrapping his long arms completely around her waist and burying his face into the crook of her neck. </p><p> “I know. I know, but there’s nothing to forgive. Just… don’t leave me okay? I don’t want you to leave, I always wake up when you leave.”</p><p> Ron froze. </p><p> “Hermoine… what do you mean? Wake up?” He slowly pulled away to look into her face, confusion evident on his face. </p><p> “The nice dreams never last long, so just stay as long as you can okay?”</p><p> “Hermione, you’re not dreaming…you’re not going to wake up. You’re with me and Fluer, at Shell Cottage. Love, please, you’re safe now alright?” Ron pleaded with her, hating the resigned look in her eyes.</p><p> “Please stop saying that, it hurts so much more when I do.” His face was white, not knowing what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say to make this better. A hand on his shoulder got his attention.</p><p> Fleur stood behind him, clearly finished with Hermione’s legs.</p><p> “Give her time Ron. We’re real, and soon she’ll know because we will not leave her. You will stay with her, and if you need anything, call for me,” Fleur said firmly. “Soon, you will be all better, Hermione.” </p><p> Hermione just smiled dazedly at her retreating figure. “I wonder where Harry is… he’s normally here too. I miss him.”</p><p> “Hermione… He’s…” He paused. “Yes, love. I miss him too. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Taking the blanket from the foot of the bed, he pulled it to cover her, slowly guiding her back to her pillow. “I think it’s time for you to rest, okay?”</p><p> She shook her head. “No… No, I want to keep talking to you. I don’t want to stop looking at you.” Despite her refusal, her eyes began slowly fluttering. “I… I’ve missed you. Ron… I love you.” She drifted off. </p><p> Ron couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sleeping girl he thought he had lost. In a broken voice, thick with every regret, he had held close to his heart for the past month he whispered, “I love you too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Happy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     The next few weeks passed sluggishly, in an almost drunken haze. Hermione had spent most of the first few weeks on bed rest with Fleur and Ron switching shifts to ensure she was never alone. Only once she had been there for two weeks was she hesitantly receptive to the fact that she was safe. That it was not a dream. </p>
<p>     There was little to do around the cottage. With the remnants of the Order scattered about in hiding and the rest slaughtered the three lived quietly, shuffling about and pretending that the outside world did not exist.</p>
<p>     “‘Mione, you have to eat… you haven’t had anything all day,” Ron said with his hand resting on hers. They were sat beside each other at the kitchen table with a small, room temperature, bowl of porridge in front of them.</p>
<p>     “I know, my appetite has been coming back, but I just don’t think I can eat right now, Ron,” she groaned. “I feel like my stomach is revolting and I’m losing.” </p>
<p>     “Yes, I can, in fact, hear it grumbling louder than Griphook on a bad day. It’s nothing a little bit of porridge won’t help,” he tried to coax with a tight smile. </p>
<p>     “I suggest you never go into sales, you’re very bad at it.”</p>
<p>     “Well, I suggest you don’t go into…” he furrowed his brows. “Whatever, Hermione. Just have a few bites, and then I’ll leave it alone I swear!”</p>
<p>     “Fine!” she grumbled back as she slowly took small spoonfuls of the watered-down oats. She winced. </p>
<p>     “Thank you,” he sighed and slumped into his seat. “Was that so hard?” </p>
<p>     “Don’t push your luck, Ronald, there’s still the possibility that you end up with a new hat,” she huffed as she shoveled in a rather large spoonful. It seems her appetite had been there the whole time, and it revealed itself with a vengeance. She ignored Ron’s grin. </p>
<p>     “I suppose you don’t want to go on a walk today? It’s rather nice out and I think Fleur’s in one of those moods that seeing me makes her cry. We’ll take it easy of course, and if you’re tired I can always carry you,” he shrugged. </p>
<p>     “Yes,” she nodded, “that sounds lovely. I think I can walk a little bit but I’ll need to lean on you for most of it.” The swelling around her knee had calmed down significantly over the last few days, but it was still extremely sore and difficult to put weight on. Ron had been helping her around as if he were Lucius’s cane, although he didn’t seem to like that comparison. </p>
<p>     After finishing her porridge and tea she allowed Ron to help her out of the chair before calling out to Fleur that they’d be out on a walk. She had peaked her head around the corner of the stairs to let them know she heard and then disappeared back into her room. Hermione didn’t miss the tinge of redness that lingered in her eyes. </p>
<p>     “You won’t be cold will you?” Ron asked, his and Hermione’s arms crooked together at the elbows while they walked out to the beach. “I can get a blanket if you’d like.”</p>
<p>     “I’ll be all right, Ron. I think we’ll manage, and plus, it’s beautiful,” she smiled at the clear blue sky. “It’s nice to be out here while it’s nice and sunny. But I can’t imagine winters out here would be too pleasant.”</p>
<p>     “No, ‘spose not. Luckily we never had to find out. We only ever came out here in the summers,” he explained. “You know, they used Shell Cottage as an Order safe house in the first war too. Apparently, the Prewetts were generous like that. Can’t say they got that from Aunt Muriel.” </p>
<p>     “No, I suppose not,” Hermione laughed. “But she was very generous with her affection to you, if I recall correctly…”</p>
<p>     “I can’t believe Ginny told you lot that story. It wasn’t like I could do anything about it, she had chocolate frogs in her purse!” </p>
<p>     Hermione wanted to respond with something witty and funny, but the mention of Ginny made her heart stutter. The conversation seemed to come to a halt as Ron realized why Hermione’s eyes seemed to glaze over. </p>
<p>     “She went out a few weeks back. Left a note saying we needed more food and that she needed to see what was happening.” He observed Hermione’s face as she seemed to come back to herself at the sound of his voice. “I didn’t know where she had gone… she left in the middle of the night. She wrote that I had to stay and watch over Fleur since she was pregnant, some nonsense that if something happened I would have to protect them.” His voice was sounding more like scraping sandpaper as he went on. </p>
<p>     “She hasn’t come back since…” he finished. Hermione reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes and leaned closer into him. “I didn’t know what to do Hermione. She didn’t even leave a hint as to where she was going… and Fleur. I couldn’t leave her alone, she’s barely hanging on as it is,” he croaked.</p>
<p>     Hermione released his arm and wrapped her arms around his neck as he fell to the sand in a soft thud. And they stayed there huddled together on the sand, holding each other close for the first time in what seemed like years. Hermione didn’t say anything until she heard his sniffles dissipate. </p>
<p>     “It’s not your fault, Ron,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault that any of this happened. Ginny went out there because she’s just as impulsive as you, and she’s just as stubborn too. If she’s out there somewhere, we’ll find her… and if she’s not…” she couldn’t finish the sentence because a lump had risen from nowhere and was stopping her ability to speak. </p>
<p>     “Well… she has to be,” she finished as firmly as she could. “She’s too smart and too strong to not come back to her family.”</p>
<p>     Ron let out another sob at her final words. Hermione was at a loss. She still didn’t know what had happened to the rest of his family. She had fallen in battle before she was even able to make it to the entrance of the castle. </p>
<p>     “‘Mione…” he cried. “They’re all dead. They’re all… They’re all gone. I couldn’t save them.” Her bottom lip quivered against his shoulder. “I saw it all and I couldn’t do anything… And then I couldn’t even protect my own sister, and I couldn’t protect you.”</p>
<p>     “I’m here, Ron. I’m safe, see?” She pulled his head up to look at her and rested her hands against his face. “I’m here and I’m alive. I haven’t felt this safe in a long time, and that’s because of you… No one could have known how the battle would end, and no one is blaming you for it. We all tried our best, Ron, but I’m so sorry about your family.” </p>
<p>     She looked into his blue eyes, desperate for him to believe her, knowing he wouldn’t. No, Ron would hold this on his shoulders for the rest of his life. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to him if something happened to her again. </p>
<p>     His tears had subsided and they simply sat in the sand, Hermione practically in his lap, with her hands cupping his face. His hands were tightly wrapped around her wrists as he stared into the eyes of the woman he lost. </p>
<p>     “I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you…” </p>
<p>     Hermione had enough. She pressed her lips gently to his as she felt her eyes once again flood with tears. His lips responded immediately, just as softly, and just as desperately. </p>
<p>     “I’m so sorry I was gone for so long. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me most,” she said against his lips. “I’m sorry I wasted so much time being mad at you this year, and I’m sorry we have to go through this by ourselves.” She was crying again. </p>
<p>     “Merlin, I really thought we had it… I really thought we would win…” she confessed. </p>
<p>     “Me too,” Ron replied. He was clutching onto Hermione for dear life. “I thought that after Fred… I thought we had our loss… That it happened and we would deal with it. I never imagined…” </p>
<p>     “Me too…” she whispered back, resting her head against his chest. </p>
<p>     There was more silence. Just the two of them embracing and allowing themselves to grieve and be comforted for the first time since they had lost everything. When the silence was too much and the thoughts became too loud they stole kisses from each other. Breaths that would have been too painful to take on their own were shared between them, and eventually, they were able to stand. </p>
<p>     “What a nice walk this has been,” he said softly into her hair, arms still wrapped around her waist. She managed a small smile and trailed kisses up his neck as she wove her fingers through the back of his hair. She hummed. </p>
<p>     “Yes, but I don’t think we’ve had enough of the ocean yet. I want to put my feet in,” she told him with a small smile. She hooked her arm around his again and tried to tug him towards the water. </p>
<p>     Ron stared back at her, distracted from the reality of the world around them by the pretty witch in front of him. </p>
<p>     “Oh?” he asked with a smirk? “Would you like a nice dip? The water does seem… refreshing.” </p>
<p>     Hermione noted the way he tilted his head and she narrowed her eyes. “No. I want to put my feet in and that’s it.”</p>
<p>     “Hm… well I don’t care.” </p>
<p>     Ron scooped her up so she was thrown over his shoulder, and she couldn’t help the smile that forced its way onto her face. She laughed begrudgingly through her shouts of protest as he made his way towards the waterline with the meekly struggling witch in tow. With a loud splash, she landed in shallow waters with a grinning face staring right at her.</p>
<p>     “Ronald, if you think I’m the only one whose arse is stuck in this freezing cold water you are sorely mistaken,” she shot at him before pulling him down by his arm and into the frigid ocean. </p>
<p>     Their laughter seemed endless as Hermione continued to splash him, his retaliation coming in the form of smothering her with more kisses when she struggled to move away from him. It was a nice feeling to be so carelessly happy, and it was one she hadn’t felt in a long time. At any moment she was sure she would wake up back in her stone hellscape with nothing by a small grate to tell the time of day.</p>
<p>     Ron had tried to reach over to put a floating clump of seaweed on her head when she twisted enough to land herself directly on his lap, straddling him. The hand holding the seaweed froze as she sat there smiling widely at him. She didn’t miss the way his previously cheery face melted into something more sedate. Thoughtful. </p>
<p>     “Hermione, do you think we could be happy here?”</p>
<p>     “What do you mean? I’m happy right now,” she responded, her brows furrowed in confusion. </p>
<p>     “Well, yes, I know. I’m happy too,” he replied quickly. “It’s just, I don’t know how we’re supposed to go on. We lost the war, and now… now we’re stuck in a cottage with no information about survivors, no plans from the Order, and no resources. We’re just… stuck. So, do you think we could be happy here? Us… and Fleur and her baby, of course.” </p>
<p>     Hermione was struck by how easily they seemed to switch to and from conversations about war and laughing. It made her neck ache. </p>
<p>     “I mean, I know we can survive here… but I don’t think we ever truly be happy until we finish what we started,” she said carefully. Ron’s face scrunched up in confusion. </p>
<p>     “What… ‘Mione you don’t mean… You don’t mean you want to go back out there?” he said incredulously. “They killed everyone, Hermione. And they tried muggleborns for breathing when we were still there, imagine what they could be doing now! I can’t lose you again!”</p>
<p>     “Ron,” she tried to reason, “that’s exactly it! They are still causing pain and suffering to people who can’t do anything about it. It’s wrong and vile and every evil synonym I can think of. I can’t just live happily while that’s happening knowing I could do something to stop it.”</p>
<p>     “But what can we do Hermione? We barely had any information the first time ‘round, and now you plan on defeating You-know-who with even less? That’s barmy and you know it!”</p>
<p>     “There has to be something! I don’t know what it is yet, but I know that this can’t be the way the story ends. Our friends, our family did not fight this war only to be forgotten and slandered in Deatheater Ministry propaganda!”</p>
<p>     “Don’t try and use my family as an excuse!” he yelled. It was the first time he’d raised his voice since she got here, and she had forgotten how easily his words could pierce through her. “I know they were heroes. I know they died fighting for good, but what does that do for them now that their bodies are probably still laying, strewn about the Hogwarts floor! How are we supposed to fight this when that could be you next for all I know!”</p>
<p>     “It very well could be me!” she shot back, exasperated. “It could be me next who gets hit with a curse I didn’t see coming or gets mauled by Greyback or Nagini. But I can’t sit back and watch as people continue dying, continue suffering while I sit back and what? Tan?”</p>
<p>     “No! You’d be here,” he reached up and squeezed her arms. “You’d be with me. We could live our lives and no one would know where we were, we wouldn’t have to think about getting killed. We could be happy, Hermione. We could be really, really happy. Look at us just five minutes ago. Were we not happy then?” </p>
<p>     Hermione let her head drop to his shoulder, tired that he still didn’t seem to get it. “Ron, I won’t be happy until I know everyone responsible for what we’ve lost is held accountable. And I won’t stop until we can live our lives without fear that somehow the secret-keeper was compromised, or that our family wasn’t safe anymore. I just… I can’t.”</p>
<p>     “So you’ll give up the chance that we could be happy… that we could have a family, to fight?” </p>
<p>     Hermione closed her eyes as she fought for the strength to deny him the thing she knew would bring them both the contentment they desired. The happiness they deserved. </p>
<p>     “I don’t want to,” she whispered into his still-damp shirt. “And I won’t ask you to stand with me, Merlin knows we’ve already given enough. But I’ll fight. Until my dying breath, I’ll fight for everything we’ve lost, and for everything else we have to gain. And I’m sorry if it means I give you up in the process…”</p>
<p>     Ron didn’t say anything. She felt the tenseness in his shoulders give way, his anger rolling off of him as the exhaustion from the past few weeks and the recent argument reared its head. There was little she could do to offer him comfort after basically denying him the one thing that would make him happy at this moment. She was certain he would push her off and angrily stomp into out of the water, but he surprised her when he moved his head back to look her directly in her eyes. </p>
<p>     “Why did I have to fall in love with a bloody Gryffindor…” he muttered before sweeping her into a mind-numbing kiss. Her lips parted immediately at his intrusion, desperate to hang on to the only thing that held her together as he tore her mind apart. They both clumsily tried to emulate what they had witnessed in passing by others in Hogwarts since neither seemed to have much experience. It didn’t stop either of them from trying. </p>
<p>     Hermione savored the feel of his soft lips on hers. He tasted like morning coffee and mint. She felt electric with the way he was running his hands up and down her arms as if to warm her from the cool water. He stole her breath with each flick of his tongue against her own, leaving her wondering what the foreign sensation fluttering below her stomach was. It only intensified when Ron’s hands moved to run along her ribs, just below the curve of her breast, almost teasingly. </p>
<p>     “If you think you’re going into the thick of it without me you’re mad,” he gasped against her lips. She smiled in return. </p>
<p>     Perhaps one day Hermione would let herself imagine a life with Ron after the war. The cottage, a small garden and animals, and children when they were ready. But until then, only images of her loved ones flashed across her mind. Moments with Harry, Ginny, and her parents that were more precious than any vault in Gringott's, but so fleeting that she could already feel them becoming muddled. </p>
<p>     She wouldn’t think of the future, of any possibilities other than the downfall of the tyrant who took everything away from her, from her friends, and from the people suffering beneath them. No, she would remember the faces of the people she lost, and she would make their aggressors suffer. There was hell to pay and Hermione had finally come to collect. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. It Was a War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke to the soft rustling of her hair. Ron’s fingers had managed to weave themselves into the messy locks she had attempted to tame into a plait. She opened her eyes to find shiny blue ones staring dazedly back at her. </p><p>“It’s raining out,” he said quietly. He was much quieter these days, she noted. Where his boisterous laugh and fully projected voice once lived was a soft-spoken and more hesitant tone. Apparently, Hermione wasn’t the only one who retreated into her mind during stress. Not now, anyway. </p><p>“Hmm,” she pondered. The rain was pattering against the roof above them, quiet enough to melt into the background, but loud enough that she had taken immediate notice. “Seems it is. No gardening today then?”</p><p>“No, too cold out now. I’ve already finished preparing the plots for the winter,” he replied while pulling her closer into his chest. “I’ll have to make more trips out to get us groceries.” Hermione hated when he left, but it was hard enough to convince him she could leave the wards to walk on the beach, let alone convince him to let her come with him. In her state at least.</p><p>She hummed again in response, tucking her head under his chin and deeper into his hold. That would be a conversation for later, not when she was relishing in the serenity of the moment.</p><p>“I finished that book you had. The one about harvests. I think I can plant some potatoes and garlic in that back corner. Maybe some more lettuce too. Don’t know if it’s the pregnancy, but Fleur goes through garlic like mad.”</p><p>Hermione snorted. “Don’t tell her that.” She felt him shift his head to give her a kiss on her hair and she smiled.</p><p>“Maybe, if you convinced her to stop making so much of that soup it wouldn’t be an issue,” he replied. “I like my food seasoned as well, can’t be doing that without garlic, and this was the third time I went to get some and found the jar empty,” he pouted. </p><p>“The soup reminds her of home,” she swatted his chest. “Let her be, you can deal with non-garlicky breath a few times a month.”</p><p>She could practically feel him rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Doesn’t mean I should have to. Wait. Is it that bad?” She had to hide her snort this time. Apparently, she failed. “It is!”</p><p>“It’s not, I swear it!” she giggled back at him. “It’s fine, if you’re so worried about it, just use a breath-freshening charm after!” </p><p>Her laughter faded out as they settled into a comfortable silence. The sound of the rain had gotten louder over the past few minutes, now sounding like a constant rumbling against the shelled roof. It filled the space with a comfortable ambiance. White noise soothed away their lingering aches. </p><p>“Have you tried any more of the exercises?” Ron asked quietly, interrupting their quiet. </p><p>“My knee’s still sore and I can’t walk on it for long, but it’s getting there,” she responded after a beat. </p><p>“Yes, good. But what about the other ones? Your charms?” he prodded. </p><p>Hermione huffed. “I can levitate plates now. But not for long. I broke one while you were outside and Fleur came in and cried when she saw it.”</p><p>“Is that why she didn’t come down for dinner?” he asked. </p><p>Hermione nodded. “I didn’t know, but it was the one Mum had gotten her for their wedding. I felt horrid after. But I was able to fix it magically… mostly. There’s still a chip on the bottom, but I was so spent after. Had to lie down for an hour before I could even think about moving.”</p><p>This time Ron hummed back at her. He had been horrified when they discovered her inability to do magic. When she first tried to cast something with his wand, she hadn’t even been able to feel it. There was no magic to be repelled or accepted through the wood. It was as if it wasn’t even acknowledging her. When Fleur had allowed her to try her wand, it was the same thing. No reaction. </p><p>Only a few weeks later when Ron’s wand slightly responded did she realize the issue. It was just like when she was within the wards of Bellatrix’s property when she didn’t have any magic at all. But this time, she could feel it trickling back into her instead of that sudden rush like before. </p><p>“We should try a few harder spells. I think it could help to try and build up some endurance,” he suggested. </p><p>“Well, I’ll have to check my schedule. Between all the sighing and lingering, I’m practically booked.”</p><p>“Yes, well, if the incentive of turning my legs into jelly isn’t enough, I’m sorry to tell you but… you’re a muggle, Hermione,” he deadpanned. </p><p>“You’re horrible,” she said with a sudden laugh. “The day I turn into a muggle is the day you finally lose the beard.”</p><p>“You don’t like the beard? Merlin, first the garlic breath, and now the beard. Do you have any other critiques, witch? You think you know someone…” he shook his head. </p><p>She loved his beard and he knew it, the idiot. Little favors, she thought. He had been so sad, seeing him proud of something was rare. His beard was a surprising source of pride. However, when he got a bit too cheeky it would still do to bring him back down to earth.</p><p>“You know I love the beard, but it seems a bit long. I don’t want to feel like I’m snogging Dumbledore, you know?” </p><p>“Think about snogging Dumbledore a lot, yeah?”</p><p>“Maybe, but you’ll never know for sure, will you?” she shot back with a smirk. </p><p>They fell into a comfortable silence as they listened to the rain. Despite the lack of voices, it seemed as though a million different things were echoing between them. Sometimes it was acceptance over the temporary haven they had created for themselves. Other times, the weight of their peace was visceral and left them incapable of forming the right words. The first kind of silence seemed to wash over them but then morph into the latter, ruining their peace and rearing its ugly head. </p><p>“What are we doing Hermione? It’s almost been three months now and we’re no closer to knowing if anyone’s left let alone how to take down an entire… Merlin, they have the Ministry…”</p><p>Hermione sighed deeply, “I know. I… I’m sorry, I don’t know either at this point. I don’t have magic right now, consistently at least, there are no books to research, we’re down a wand, and… What are we supposed to do?” </p><p>Ron looked pensively up at the ceiling. His brows were furrowed in concentration and Hermione noticed that his nose twitched every few seconds. Almost like it was reacting to the different thoughts racing across his mind. </p><p>“I was so sure we could fight this Ron. I was sure we could somehow turn this war around and win. Maybe I was being naive. Brash. A true Gryffindor, huh?” she said with her lips pursed and her chest tight. “I couldn’t save any of our friends having been taken down within seconds, and now… Now I can’t even cast a <em> Lumos </em>  let alone a  <em> Stupify </em>.” </p><p>Hermione felt Ron stiffen at her words. They had decidedly stopped bringing up the topic of the Battle at Hogwarts and it had been weeks since the last “discussion”. And that would be putting it lightly if the dust falling from the ceiling was any indicator of how loud their verbal sparring was.</p><p>“Hermione…” She heard his emotions waging war on themselves through the low hum of his voice.</p><p>“No, Ron. Look. I’m so tired of not knowing. I just… I’m sorry I wasn’t there but I just need to know what happened after. Please…” Hermione begged. It wasn’t fair. Ron had to watch members of his family be taken down one by one. Hermione knew it wasn’t fair to ask him, but she needed to know if there was anything she could have done. She was convinced there was a part of her brain that existed purely to torment her.</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it, ‘Mione. There’s nothing you could have done or anyone for that matter.” His voice was as hard as the stone she had once slept on but on the last word she could hear the slightest quiver. “I was there and I saw <em> everything.  </em> And I couldn’t do anything, Hermione… I  <em> was </em>   <em> there </em> and I couldn’t do anything!” he finally shouted as he pushed himself up on the bed. His voice was rivaling the now rolling thunder overhead. The shutters on the windows rattled against the walls. </p><p>“I know, Ron! But please, at least tell me how you got out? You keep saying Fleur and Ginny pulled you out, but you’re lying! I know you and I know how you lie!” she yelled back. “What is so horrible that you need to lie to my face about it!” </p><p>“Why can’t you just let it go? I’ve told you many times I don’t want to talk about it!” Ron stood up and began pacing back and forth at the side of the bed. His hands had wound through his own hair this time, and there were tears in his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. “The morning was going perfectly before you had to go and muck it up!”</p><p>“I need to know! I need to know what happened because I can’t live with myself knowing I somehow lived while all my friends just died! I’d be dishonoring their memory if I get to live in blissful ignorance about what they went through.” </p><p>Ron shook his head at her. “No, they wouldn’t want you to know what happened either. I know you too, Hermione. I know you won’t stop picturing what happened no matter what, and it’ll only get worse if I told you.”</p><p>“You can’t know that for sure. Everyone’s dead, Ron! I need to know and they’re not here to tell us what they want. <em> I’m  </em> here to tell you what I  <em> need </em>, why can’t you just tell me?” she cried out as her patience and tenderness she tried to convey the past few months thinned. </p><p>“Because I killed Percy!”</p><p>Hermione blinked back at him as she felt her world tilt. “What?” </p><p>“I…” he croaked out just barely above a whisper. “I was fighting with Seamus and Ginny, we were surrounded by four Deatheaters. One of them was Dolohov. I didn’t recognize the others. We were just inside the Great Hall’s entrance when Seamus was hit by Dolohov’s curse… went straight up in flames.”</p><p>His were fluttering back and forth as if replaying a film reel in his mind. Hermione noticed the way his hands trembled as he paced despite their clinging onto his red hair so tightly his knuckles were turning white. </p><p>“I could see Dad go down somewhere behind him. And I could hear Mum… Bloody hell, it was horrible. I… I saw George fighting with Oliver and they were outnumbered. Went quickly but… then Percy came up behind the four death eaters and killed them before trying to drag me and Gin out the hall. I tried to go back in to help but he and Ginny forced me out and that’s when we found Fleur. I was still fighting them and once we got to the bridge to apparate, I…” he took a long pause. Hermione was tempted to go and hug him, but it seemed he was on a roll and wouldn’t risk stopping him. </p><p>“I pushed him away…I pushed him away and when he tried to get his balance…” he let out a sob. “There was a killing curse. I didn’t see who cast it, but I just saw… Green. And then I think Gin- I think Ginny apparated us away.” </p><p>“Oh, Ron…” she whispered. She watched as Ron, her source of protection and strength since coming back, crumpled onto the floor and weakly gripping the bed to stay slightly upright. “Ron, it wasn’t your fault. It’s not your fault,” she said as she crawled over and lowered herself next to him. Wrapping her arms around him she let him lean on her the only way she could right now. Comforting him and holding him was just as soothing for her as it was to him, and with her lack of magic, it was the only helpful thing she found herself capable of. </p><p>“He- I saw his- his face when he- when he fell,” he let out through mangled breath. “Just stared at me. Wouldn’t stop staring…” </p><p>“I’m sorry I… I didn’t know,” Hermione whispered. </p><p>“Then don’t- don’t bloody ask,” he said in a weak voice, reminiscent of a tone much sharper than he could manage at the moment. </p><p>Hermione couldn’t stop the tears that fell at the thought of how brutal the battle was after she had gone. The things that her friends had to face, and then ultimately die to. </p><p>“I won’t. I’m sorry I pushed, Ron,” she replied as she tightened her arms around his shoulders. “I promise I won’t anymore.” </p><hr/><p>Ron hadn’t spoken to her since the morning. Instead of responding to her greetings, he would walk out of the room, likely to go and fix one of the constantly leaking holes in the ceiling. The downpour hadn’t lessened. </p><p>Perhaps Hermione would have been mad if she wasn’t so aware of the damage she brought down on his psyche. Forcing him to relive his pain in an attempt to lessen hers. It was a fool’s hope to think they hadn’t died so… horribly. </p><p>Throughout their stay here, Ron hadn’t forced her to open up about Bellatrix. Other than asking her to talk about it and throwing it back at her when she pushed too hard, Ron hadn’t made her spill anything to her. He could tell how bad it was from the lingering shake of her hands. </p><p>She was sat quietly at the kitchen table when the soothing lilt of Fleur’s voice carried across the kitchen. </p><p>“He’s sleeping now,” she said, making her way over to the sink. She was holding a small stack of plates, the ones she had in her room since taking to eating her meals alone.</p><p>“Good,” Hermione replied. “He needs his rest. He’s been spending so much time practicing his spells that he doesn’t get into bed until hours after me.” </p><p>She could feel the roll of Fleur’s eyes despite her being turned away. “And you would not be if you had magic? At least he’s getting his energy out this way instead of tearing the house down. He was not well when we first got here, you know?”</p><p>“How do you mean?” Hermione turned her focus on her words and the way Fleur’s hair seemed more tangled in the bun that held it than she had ever seen before. </p><p>“He did not want to leave the battle. Ginny and I had to stun him when we got here and take away his wand. And he would not stop yelling at us when we tried to bring him food. Ginny wasn’t much better and they argued much.” </p><p>“That sounds like Ron, but… he’s so different now,” she pondered as Fleur turned around to face her, a small stack of clean dishes now perched on the counter beside the sink. She watched the rosewood wand disappear into the pocket of Fleur’s silk lounge pants. </p><p>“That’s because you came back.”</p><p>Hermione exhaled.</p><p>“He had you back and that was enough for him. Thinks he failed you. Now that you’re back he can make it up.”</p><p>“I don’t need him to. It wasn’t his fault,” she said exasperated. “I’ve told him this just about a million times already.” </p><p>Fleur crossed her arms and rested them on her growing bump. “Does not matter. The man has decided to make it his mission, and if that means less cleaning up after his temper, then I do not complain.”</p><p>“Did… How did he react to Ginny leaving?” she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer. </p><p>“He was... not good. I didn’t see him for days, I only knew he was there because I heard him at night.”</p><p>Hermione’s already cracked heart crumbled as she imagined Ron by himself. She knew he wasn’t a very communicative person when it came to feelings, let alone trauma. But she had no clue it had been so bad before she got here. </p><p>“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Fleur… I can’t imagine-”</p><p>“Exactly. You cannot. Just like Ron, there is nothing to forgive. It was a war and we lost, we can’t put the blame on a single person’s shoulders. But you cannot force people to share things like that. You lost your friends, and Ron… he lost his entire family. Forcing him to tell you was cruel,” she said sharply. </p><p>Hermione flinched and went to open her mouth to defend herself when a loud crack, much louder and closer than thunder, pierced through the house and had them both frozen in their tracks. </p><p>“Fleur!” a voice called out from the front door of the cottage. “Fleur please, we need to get him inside, it’s Dean!” </p><p>The two witches bolted through the hall and to the entryway of the cottage to see a frail-looking Ginerva Weasly leaning against the doorway. Her hair was stringy and soaked through, falling just above her shoulders jaggedly as if cut across with a dull knife. The skin beneath her eye had swollen and was a deep purple color that stuck out impressively against her pale skin. Her clothes were dirty and torn. Her wand was hanging limply from her hand at her side. </p><p>“Dean Thomas is outside, he’s hurt and I need you to bring him in, I can’t…” she didn’t get the chance to continue as she collapsed onto the ground in front of them.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Nothing Would Be the Same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again, hope you enjoy this chapter! I can't wait to tell more about these characters :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ron!” Hermione hollered as she followed Ginny’s body to the ground, enveloping her in a trembling embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur flew out the front door to where Hermione could faintly see a figure laying on the sand, clutching something tightly to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron!” she yelled again, she could feel the blood pumping through her veins, hear the constant thrumming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud clatter as Ron made his way down the staircase, toppling frames from the wall as he righted himself in his sleep-addled hurry. He had his wand up by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, but it quickly fell back down to his side when he saw the familiar shock of red hair in Hermione’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ginny!” he exclaimed, rushing to his knees before the two witches, gently turning Ginny’s face toward him. “Bloody hell, it’s really her. What happened to her,” he whispered hoarsely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione just shook her head in dismay, “I don’t know, she just showed up with Dean, Fleur’s outside helping him now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron inhaled sharply. “Dean’s here? He’s alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be damned, Hermione, is she okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione pursed her lips as her mind raced. “Other than a few superficial scrapes there doesn’t seem to be anything. She might’ve just collapsed from exhaustion. If that’s the case, just lay her on the sofa for now. She said Dean’s in bad shape.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron scrunched his brows together and looked at his sister for another long moment before nodding. Without another word, he gently lifted Ginny, without the help of magic, from Hermione’s arms and laid her on the sofa facing the fireplace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione watched as he took Ginny’s hand and squeezed it tightly, bringing his other one to rest on the shaggy hair that was now spread across the cushion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly ripped his gaze away with a deep breath and briskly made his way outside. Moments later, she found him levitating Dean into the cottage as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked horrible. His already dark skin seemed to be littered with splotches of deep blue and purple, and just like Ginny’s, his clothes looked as if they had been running through thornbushes. If it hadn’t been for his labored breathing, she was sure she could mistake him for a corpse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron settled him across the other sofa while Fleur immediately got to work, summoning the few potions and salves she had left after tending to Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly, he kneeled right next to Hermione on the ground and rested a hand against Ginny’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She’s here,” he spoke breathily. “She’s bloody here. Am I hallucinating? She’s alive?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione gripped his other hand in both of hers and nodded. He didn’t look her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve run out of dittany, but the worst ones are mostly healed, and he’ll have a limp for a while,” Fleur interrupted. Hermione glanced over to see her standing over Dean, pulling a blanket over him she had retrieved from beside the fireplace. “His ankle was badly twisted, I’m sure it’ll be sore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Fleur. Could you just run a quick check over Ginny? I would do it myself but…” she trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur nodded before a familiar charm glowed a soft blue from the tip of her wand. “Nothing serious, luckily. And nothing that won’t heal with time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron visibly relaxed and he let out an audible sigh. “I just, I just need her to wake up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” Hermione said. Ron pulled his hand from hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was holding this,” Fleur said as she pulled a small dark book from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon inspection, Hermione saw that it was a dark leather-bound grimoire. Extremely old if the fraying pages were anything to go by. She could feel heavy waves of dark magic emanating from it, making her stomach turn and every magical fiber of her being cringe. Ron looked perturbed at its presence as well, angling his body closer towards Ginny and away from Fleur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stood and walked closer, despite her entire being telling her not to. Fleur immediately handed her the book, glad she was no longer holding it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like it,” she said, her accent highlighting her growing distaste for the object. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione ignored her, and the book. It was small. Small enough that she was able to hold it in the palm of her hand comfortably with her fingers just reaching around the edges. The dark leather cover held nothing but small punctures in seemingly randomized points on its surface. Running her finger across the jagged edges, she felt bits of the thin pages give way slightly, the old parchment fluttering to the floor below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the book, the pages themselves seemed to grow in size and out of the spine, creating a very odd picture. The pages grew to the size of a standard parchment, but the binding and cover itself stayed the same size. A curious charm, she thought. She found that it was written in small, messy, and cursive lettering, making it difficult to read and even harder to decipher with its older terminology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, only two lines down she was able to make out a sentence amidst the scrawl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Noble House of Black… It’s a Black family Grimoire,” Hermione said disbelievingly. She flipped through the pages quickly, skimming through unfamiliar dark curses, hexes, and even healing spells. It was captivating, so much so that she didn’t notice Ron or Fleur as they both stood before her and calling out her name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione!” she snapped her head up at the sharp tone Ron used. “Stop looking at that,” he said before attempting to rip the book from her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No!” Hermione startled, gripping the book. When it closed, the pages shrank immediately, as if being sucked into the binding. “No, there are useful spells in here! We can use them, Ron.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron let go and looked at her with his mouth hung open. “Use them? They’re dark spells, Hermione. Hell, I could feel it from across the room!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron, I can read through it, maybe there’s something in here that can help us.” Opening it again she noticed a page had come loose in the struggle, she carefully opened the page, tucking it back into place. Squinting her eyes she was able to barely make out the words, </span>
  <em>
    <span>In the case of dire circumstance. Reversal of events: Time Travel. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione sharply gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scanning further down the page, her brief moment of hope crumpled as her face twisted in horror. She slammed the book closed and looked back up at the confused faces of Ron and Fleur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to get rid of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron narrowed his eyes. “Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur remained silent but eyed her skeptically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s dark magic,” she said simply. “Of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could react, Ron moved forward and closed in on her, forcefully taking the book from her, leaving her unbalanced and gripping his shirt for stability as he turned around. She huffed and shoved his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronald Weasley, give it back,” she hit his back again as he held the book out of her reach. “Why can’t you just listen to me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rich coming from you,” he said snarkily, causing her to stop and glare at him. She watched as he opened the book to the loose page and made one last attempt to shove him and reach for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly she was hovering just above the ground staring at Ron’s wand pointed at her while his eyes were still glued to the page in concentration. Her eyes and mouth were wide at the audacity of him. She could feel the heat radiating from her face as she struggled to contain a few very poignant words that wanted to spill out right then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put me down! I taught you this spell you that bloody spell you prat!” A few of them slipped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Merlin’s beard…” Ron said as Fleur leaned over to read the page as well. “We could fix this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No, we can’t, we can’t mess with time, Ron! Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “This wouldn’t just be meddling, Hermione, this would be changing the entire course of the Wizarding world! We could stop this war from happening, we could save everyone!” His eyes held that glint that she had been missing for so long, but suddenly she wished it would go away this instant. Ron seemed to be vibrating at the idea of jumping backwards in time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Read the actual ritual, Ron! We aren’t doing that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She watched as Ron’s eyes seemed to glaze over as that familiar spark in his eye faded once again. However, she noticed the way his grip on the book tightened, the furrow of his brow, and something much, much darker seemed to linger within his irises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fleur still hadn’t said anything, opting instead to continue reading the page, her brow quirking every few lines. Hermione couldn’t tell how she was reacting to the spell and its requirements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Suddenly, she was dropped back to the floor, barely landing on her feet before stomping over to Ron. He slammed the book closed and tucked it away into the back pocket of his jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The only thing stopping me from hexing your pasty arse all the way across that ocean is the fact that I physically can’t!” Hermione yelled at him as she tried to reach around and snatch the book. It was a futile effort. Ron was bigger than her, physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> stronger than her, especially now, and currently wielded a wand. She was in the air again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “As you said, there could be something useful in there,” he said before going to Ginny and lifting her from the couch. “I’m going to bring her to our bedroom for now, and I’ll bring Dean to the last one. I’ll take the couch from now on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione stared at his back as the two bodies disappeared around the staircase and she dropped to the ground once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s a chance,” Fleur said to her. “We could get everything back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nothing would be the same, Fleur.” She turned to look at her, watching as the blonde held her bump with a gentleness their current world was desperately lacking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That seems to be the whole point, no?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, yes, but…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nothing would be the same,” Fleur completed with a tired sigh. “Perhaps… a chance for something better would be worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “But Fleur, you would never marry Bill. I would not become friends with Ron… Harry...” the more she spoke, the more she felt how insignificant her worries seemed when compared to the fates of her friends and family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “If we can stop this war from ever happening… Bill might never have been killed, Ron and Ginny would have their family, even Harry might even have his,” Fleur thought aloud wistfully. “It sounds much nicer than hiding away in a cottage for fear of being murdered where we stand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “No one would remember you, Fleur. Not this you at least. Bill wouldn’t remember you, he’d be a child. And you’d have your child from another lifetime. And your family, you wouldn’t be able to see them, wouldn’t be able to speak with them. Could you live with that?” Hermione asked, knowing what her own answer would be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wouldn’t be the one to go back,” Fleur said firmly. “It would have to be you or Ron, you know exactly what you need to do to stop You-Know-Who. And I… to know Bill was alive and safe would be worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione shook her head at Fleur. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’re saying that you would sacrifice yourself, your life, your magic… You would do that to send someone back? Fleur did you not read the entire spell? If you sacrifice yourself here you won’t exist any longer back then! You disappear!” Hermione spoke through her now labored breathing, trying desperately to make her see sense. “You… You don’t… exist, you just vanish. There would be no chance for you to love Bill because you… You wouldn’t… Oh, Merlin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione fell back into the sofa Ginny had been on and contemplated the implications of a single human existence just completely erased from the world as if nothing had been there in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Awful indeed,” Fleur said back, much too calm for Hermione’s current state. She then disappeared up the stairs as well while levitating Dean up on her way instead of waiting for Ron. She saw neither of them return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few more minutes of waiting, she walked upstairs to the bedroom she had been sharing with Ron. Soft murmuring stopped her just outside the threshold of the room, clear from the view of its inhabitants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill him. I swear it, that little ferret won’t live to see another-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He helped us, Ron. If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t have escaped at all,” Ginny’s voice said back tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He should have done it </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> everyone was killed,” Ron hissed back. “And I should’ve been there with you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione could hear his voice slowly escalating, heated with the frustration he had contained for the past three months. There was a loud scraping of the desk chair quickly dragging across the floor and a sigh coming from Ginny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant what I said, you had to be here to help with Fleur in case something happened, and it’s not like you were in a state to be helpful at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have died, Ginny! In fact, I thought you were dead! I could have helped you, and maybe then Dean wouldn’t be half-dead down the hall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you were killed while we were out when you inevitably try to play hero because you can’t grasp the fact that it wasn’t only you who lost people?” Her tone was bitter and sharp. “I couldn’t save any of them either, but you don’t see me running around and blasting things to bits just because I can’t handle myself. And even more so, you don’t see me pushing people away who have only tried to help, Ron! I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t do something stupid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that followed was heavy. Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth in shock at her words. The wooden floor gave a loud creak when she took a steadying step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron’s footsteps were quick as he left the room, brushing quickly by Hermione, not acknowledging her presence. His face showing the early splotches of red that showed up when he was particularly upset. And even worse, she saw the way his lip quivered despite the tight hold his teeth had on it and the misty sheen over his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait- Ron that’s not what I meant!” Ginny shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stamped out the urge to follow him. With her record today, she figured she’d probably manage to finally send him over the edge. If she hadn’t already. Instead, she walked into the room to see Ginny slowly throwing her legs over the side of the bed. It was clearly required a lot of energy from her as she gripped the side table and the bed for leverage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hermione said as she sat beside her, gently pulling her back to the mattress. “He needs to go blow off some steam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to follow him, he’s going to think I meant something completely different,” she responded pleadingly. “I just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Hermione said sadly. “It’s been a rough day, but I’m sure you being alive is enough so he won’t do something too stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny looked at her then as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyes widened in shock and realization as her jaw went slack. “Hermione.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, Merlin, it’s really you,” throwing her arms around Hermione’s neck, she pulled the witch into a tight embrace. Almost suffocating if she wasn’t so elated at her arrival. “You’re alive!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I could say the same for you,” she said into Ginny’s neck, relishing in the familiar hold of her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling away, Ginny stared at her, amazed. “I thought you were dead. We didn’t see you in the battle, and I- I just assumed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were dead too, I thought I would never see you again,” Hermione said as she felt that sting behind her eyes that she had become so well acquainted with.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How, how are you here Hermione? Not that I’m complaining but…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, it’s a long story…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Seems like we’ve got time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ahh,” she hesitated. “Bellatrix, she stunned me in the courtyard. I had been with her until I escaped three months ago. Apparently, it was about two weeks after you had left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It seemed as though Ginny’s face was stuck in an almost comical image of shock. “Hermione…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yes, it wasn’t too pleasant a stay of course,” she said quickly, “But I’m here now, that’s all that matters. Now tell me where you were.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She seemed to shake herself back into focus then, “Definitely not the end of that conversation, but I’ll amuse you this time. I left because during my seventh year, I had spoken to a few in the DA about safe houses they knew of. I went to see if there was anyone there. They were all empty but one the others had been almost completely destroyed. Dean was there with another student from my year, her name was Amelia. Seamus told her about the house as well, seems like, and they had been there in hiding together since the battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I don’t remember an Amelia?” Hermione said. “What house was she in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “She was muggle-born Slytherin. You would have loved her,” Ginny said wistfully. “Her and Dean were in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione winced at her words. “Were?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ginny’s face fell. “I was with them for a few weeks trying to plan where to go next. Dean had been visiting muggle cities to try and find any word of the state of the wizarding world. He managed to get a copy of the Daily Prophet. They’re acting as though nothing’s wrong. It’s just the same Ministry arse-kissing rubbish and the muggle-born trials. They’ve only become more popular, and apparently, they aren’t just being sent to Azkaban, Hermione. They’ve legalized the use of the killing curse on them,” she said, her face twisting in disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione gasped, “No! That's absurd, even for them! They couldn’t!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ginny only shook her head. “They had pictures of the latest ones in the paper, they do it right there on the Wizengamot floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She was silent in her shock then, struggling to find words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The last trip Dean went on, he was recognized and followed by snatchers who brought us to Malfoy Manor.” Hermione gripped Ginny’s hand so hard her knuckles turned a pasty white color. “We were only there for a few minutes when Lucius killed Amelia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ginny paused for a moment, swallowing hard before she was able to continue. “Said he would save the ministry the trouble. They… they let the snatchers have their go at us before they brought us down to the dungeons. I thought we were dead right there, Hermione. I thought they would kill us or call other Death eaters or Aurors-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione loosened her grip and used her other hand to rub Ginny’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was consoling Dean when Malfoy came down, tossed us a book and our wands, and snuck us out the back door.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Draco Malfoy?” she asked, confused. “Why would he do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I thought he was leading us into a trap at first, but then he told us what happened to his Mum. You-Know-Who tortured her after she lied to him about Harry being dead in the forest.” her voice broke. “He was still alive after being hit with a killing curse, but Nagini… Narcissa was killed after weeks of torture and Lucius and Draco were forced to watch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione shivered at the thought. Tom Riddle had issues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The book," Hermione said trying to divert her attention, "did he say anything else about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He said that it was had powerful magic and that used correctly it could win us the war. He was adamant we use it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The magic in it is very dark, Ginny. We shouldn’t be reading it, let alone using it,” Hermione said, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I thought of all people you would be the first to jump on this opportunity. We could have a chance, Hermione. Finally, we could have an advantage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Maybe, but at what cost?” Hermione said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “What are you talking about? What did you read?” Ginny said suspiciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I skimmed the pages a bit, and one of the spells required </span>
  <em>
    <span>human sacrifice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ginny. I didn’t even know that kind of magic still existed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, maybe there are other ones that could help. Maybe not all of them are as dark,” she said hopefully. “Malfoy must’ve given us that book for a reason, there has to be something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Look, Ginny, you’ve been through a lot, I think it’s best that you just get some rest, alright?” she said, slowly guiding her back down to the pillow. "We can talk more about it later, yes?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mum</span>
  </em>
  <span>. At least tell me you and Ron have the decency to change the sheets.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hermione flushed red, “Of course, now shut up and sleep!” She walked out of the room and shut the door, leaving a previously grinning Ginny Weasley who was now pretending to throw up on said sheets. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, there's that. See y'all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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